Classic Poem

Pursue , O shepherd, in this gorge no more
That bounding, stupid goat; for on the side
Of Maenalus, where summer bids us bide,
Night rises quickly, so thy hope give o'er.

Rest here; of figs and wine I've ample store.
All day this wild retreat have we espied.
Speak low, Mnasylus, Gods roam far and wide
And Hecate's eyes this very spot explore.

A Satyr's cave is yon dark gap below —
Familiar demon whom these summits know.
Be still and he may come from out his nook.

Dost hear the pipe that sings upon his lip? —
'Tis he! His horns now catch the rays; and look,
He makes my charmed goats in the moonlight trip.